Draco's Eyes
by 0sirensinger0
Summary: Draco couldn't be more excited to go to Hogwarts, where he would learn to cast spells, brew potions, make friends, and, best of all, escape his Father's constant watch. Instead, Draco finds himself rejected, struggling to maintain composure, and watched at every turn. Original series re-imagined through Draco's perspective. Compliant with books- mostly ;) warning: child abuse
1. Diagon Alley

**Author's note: It's been a while but this story is officially scrapped. Eventually, I'll do a rewrite. I'm just not very happy with the progression of the story and I think some of the characters ended up too out of character. I'll update with the name of the rewrite if I do it, though.**

Mother hadn't come today, she hadn't made it out of bed at all that week. Father of course, did not come. He could barely stand to be near me. Let alone be civil enough to avoid rumors. It was a miracle I was even here today.

My cheeks warmed at the memory of my parents' ongoing argument. Ever since I had gotten my letter, Father had been trying to dissuade her from letting me go.

 _Hogwarts allows mudbloods. He shouldn't be around that. Imagine him learning to defend_ against _the Dark Arts! Dumbledore is headmaster now. Let's put him in Durmstrang. He can stay over holidays. Have a respectable education._

I couldn't help but imagine my Father's focus was on me staying away on holidays. Especially because he grew furious that Mother argued I needed to come home. _Father loves me._ It seemed to be a plea rather than a confirmation. I pushed away the thought, but the bruises around my back and sides were hard to ignore. No, they were only there to remind me not to fail. _Father loves me._

I meandered around the crowded lane. Shops lined the sides but they held no interest. I sighed inwardly, eventually I would have to enter the tightly packed shops, I needed school supplies.

But just glancing in one, an apothecary with high towering shelves and barely enough space to peruse them, sent me into a panic. _Malfoys do not fear._

I wasn't afraid. I just didn't want to get close to the fat dirty witch standing outside. It was a poor excuse and part of me recognized that, but the other part used the excuse to hurry past.

Further down Diagon Alley, I came across a shop that looked empty. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Of course, I already had robes that would work for the uniform, plain black work robes, but Father disapproved of looking untidy and I seemed to remember that mine had begun to wear holes in the edges. I walked in, grateful to the warmth. The shelves in this front section were too close for comfort, I felt the cloth would sweep down on me and leave me buried, but I smoothed my eyebrows before they could even scrunch together. _Malfoys maintain composure._ This lesson of my Father's had been particularly difficult to remember, I flinched inwardly, and particularly painful. I was grateful, though, I was finally able to keep my emotion from flooding my face. I had gone from an open book to a steely vault.

"Hello," greeted the squat smiling witch. "Hogwarts?"

I nodded and she motioned for me to follow her to the back room. I nearly sighed in relief. The room was large, with mirrors lining one wall, making it even bigger. Fabric of every shade was stashed against one side, and I watched, briefly amused, as several shifted colors. One in particular was a beautiful misty blue, with other blues and greens dancing about, it was like looking out a window blurred with rain onto a forest.

"Stand up here please," requested the witch, Madame Malkin, breaking my fixation on the fabric. She had gestured to a low footstool near the empty middle of the room. After stepping onto it, the witch assaulted me with heavy black fabric! It remained draped over my eyes, surely for only a moment. But that moment drew out my claustrophobia and I had to remind myself to take real breaths, not the shallow, panting ones that threatened to escape me. Madame Malkin finished pulling the fabric over my head and began to pin it up in places here and there. A sound rang out from the front of the shop and she moved toward it with little more than a, "Stay here. I'll be back," thrown over her shoulder. A stammered greeting was given as Madame Malkin crossed to the front and I lost sight of her. A second witch moved toward me from the sewing table in the back and took her place.

My eyes gazed about before settling on the mirrored wall in front of me. The small blond gazing back looked utterly bored, my reflection's silver eyes betrayed none of the panic that seemed to be taking over.

"Hogwarts dear?" the witch asked sympathetically from up front. _Should I talk to the wizard?_ "Got the lot here-" _what if he knows my father-_ "another young man-" _what if he's awful-_ "being fitted up-" _what if he thinks I am-_ "just now, in fact." _Oh, Merlin._ The wizard who entered looked my age though a few inches taller, I noticed begrudgingly. His raven hair was twisted and curled into a mess around his angular face and set in contrast with brilliant emerald eyes. His eyes were framed by a set of thick lashes but trapped behind a pair of round glasses. As he got closer, I realized the bridge of his glasses were being held together by almost clear paper. Madame Malkin waved him over to the footstool near me and began draping him in fabric.

"Hello," I said to the boy cordially. He didn't answer but I pressed on, "Hogwarts, too?" I asked, though I had heard the witch already ask him.

"Yes," he replied simply.

I covered my irritation, why was he not talking to me? I realized ashamedly that he must be wondering why I was here alone. Something prompted me to lie and I had to remind myself not to sound rushed. That was a sign of lying. "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands." I could picture my lie in my head. Suddenly, I wanted them to be here. I began to get ahead of myself as I pictured the wizards I had seen earlier with their families. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own." My voice started to sound whiny and I clamped down on the tone. What would one of those brats say? I finished lamely with an exclamation I had heard from one, "I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The boy still hadn't said anything. Stupid rambling. Still, despite my embarrassment, I wanted to have a conversation. "Have you got your own broom?"

"No," was the sole reply.

"Do you play Quidditch?" I pressed, please, please say yes.

"No," he said again, his tone unsure.

"I do-" and for some unknown reason my mouth continued- "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House." _Why did I mention my Father? Why did I bring up his torturous insistence on the sport? It might seem like I disagree!_ Horror flashed through my body as I imagined what might happen if Father heard of my public disapproval of his opinion. Even if it was just about stupid Quidditch. I hurriedly added, "and I must say, I agree." I pushed away from the topic. "Know what House you'll be in yet?"

"No," he said yet again. Why didn't this boy even try at having a conversation? Shame again washed through me. Of course he didn't want to talk to me. _Stupid. Boring. Disappointment. Failure._ More and more insults flashed through my head all using the familiar voice of my Father.

Desperate to stop the voice in my head I blurted out, "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they?" This was a fact of constant worry for me and I added, "but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been," more of a consolation to myself then an attempt at conversation. Picturing the sorting hat calling any other House sent shivers down my back. "Imagine being in Hufflepuff!" I shivered again at the prospect. Ravenclaw would be bad enough, Gryffindor he'd skin me alive, Hufflepuff I didn't even want to think of. "I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

The boy's murmured reply was lost on me as I struggled to rid my thoughts of my Father. Hufflepuff! Not only would he kill me, he would make sure it was lasting and painful. _I am not a Hufflepuff,_ I thought feebly.

"I say, look at that man!" I said suddenly, gesturing toward the front window, grateful for the distraction. Even if it did come in the form of a grisly over-sized man leering through the glass.

"That's Hagrid," said the boy, sounding faintly pleased. "He works at Hogwarts.

 _That's Hagrid?_ My mind squeaked. Of course I had been told about the half giant but this man looked utterly abysmal! I shot a terrified look at the boy before gaining control of my countenance. The boy was grinning back at the thing!

"Oh, I've heard of him." I muttered darkly. Did the boy know? Should I tell him? "He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" I hedged.

The boy corrected me, "He's the gamekeeper." The boy sounded defensive I hurried on with my half- warning.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed-"

"I think he's brilliant." The boy cut in, a venomous edge seeping into his voice.

"Do you?" I couldn't help the slight sneer that crept onto my face. Maybe this boy knew after all. Defending a monster! An edge slipped into my voice, "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead." He said shortly.

I sucked in a breath. "Oh." What am I supposed to say? "Sorry," I said knowing it would never be adequate. If I lost Mother- "But they were our kind, weren't they?" I spit out the question, struggling to maintain composure.

"They were a witch and a wizard if that's what you mean." The boy replied his voice harsh again.

A pureblood. _Great,_ I grumbled mentally. He did know my Father and there I was, mind and countenance all over the place! _Oh, if he tells Father!_

 _I can make up for it,_ a panicked part of my mind pleaded.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families." I had started rambling again. I took a breath and reigned in my babbling. To take the attention off myself I asked, "What's your surname, anyway?" Dead parents. There were plenty of those after the Wizarding War.

The boy opened his mouth to answer but the damn witch cut in, "That's you done, my dear." The boy hopped off his footstool.

"Well," I said trying to control my downward spiral, "See you at Hogwarts I suppose." Please, no sooner than that. The boy nodded and hurried to the front of the store to pay for his new robes. The woman hemming mine was rather slow, but she seemed nearly done. Maybe I could follow the boy out and ask again who he was.

That thought disappeared when the witch brushed against my rib and I nearly toppled from the footstool. The pain a simple touch brought was nearly unbearable. I drew in a sharp breath. The lancing pain was beginning to subside and I felt blood rush to tinge my face.

"You alright?" The witch asked.

"Fine," I snapped pushing venom into my voice. I knew the menacing tone I could force would make the witch _want_ to leave me alone.

"A-alright," she stammered, a blush rising. I watched in grim satisfaction. Even at only eleven years old I could instill fear in adult.

"Just finish up." I commanded in the same tone. I still needed to finish buying my school things and I could only think longingly of my bed. Perhaps one of the house elves could look at my side. I dismissed the thought. Father had probably ordered them not to treat me and his orders overruled mine. Besides, relying on a house elf was low. _Reliance is demeaning_. The voice flashed through my head for added emphasis.

The rest of the shopping passed without incident, besides a few swells of embarrassing panic at the too close shelves, and, by late afternoon I headed over to the wand shop. I was truly excited to get my wand. What would it be like? Typically, the wand reflects the personality of the wizard and certain materials are prone to act a certain way.

I sincerely hoped I did not end up with a dragon heart-string wand. Not that it was definable proof, but those wands were typically given to dark wizards.

I was nearly to the entrance of the shop when I noticed the person coming out. The strange boy from the robe shop! His face was ashen and his emerald eyes seemed clouded with misery. He either didn't notice or didn't care that I was only a few steps away. Probably the latter. The half-giant was with him chattering on, oblivious to the boy's obvious pain. I staggered a step toward him before regaining control of my limbs. The pair passed by and, after a moment, I entered the shop.

It was tiny, which did not help my panic. The stacks of wands piled high to the ceiling seemed in danger of toppling over. The light was dim and dust clogged my nose. I stepped toward the counter and nearly plowed into the wandmaker in my haste.

He seemed not to notice and continued to mutter to himself, "Curious, how curious."

"Sir?" I asked tentatively. The wandmaker was making me nervous.

Pale eyes gazed into my face, seeming to only just see me. "Ah," he said, his voice light as feathers. "A Malfoy." It was not a question. I didn't bother asking how he knew my surname, I looked exactly like my Father. Trying not to cringe at the thought, I returned my focus to the wandmaker. "Dragon heart-string, elm, powerful wand," I realized with a jolt he was describing Father's wand. "Of course, Dragon heart-string makes for a temperamental wand. Temperamental wizard." He continued.

I realized I should intervene but the wandmaker froze my tongue. His eyes seemed to see too much, my fingers twitched toward my bruises. _Don't be ridiculous,_ I admonished myself, _he doesn't know._ More than likely, the wizard was thinking of the previous accusations against Father.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, let's start." I eyed the wizard warily. He pulled a tape measure from his pocket and it began to wrap itself around me, measuring from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, around my head, from ear to ear, and so on. The wandmaker had scurried off to pull boxes from the shelves.

The tape measure wound around my middle and I was glad the wizard had his back turned away from my tearing eyes and taut face. The measure moved on but my face took longer to control. "That's enough," The wandmaker told the tape measure and it immediately crumpled to the floor. As the wizard approached, it wound tightly and jumped into his hand. The wizard slid it into his pocket before turning his pale gaze on me.

"Perhaps dragon heart," he said presenting me with a wand. I was unsure what to do with it. "Go on," he encouraged, "Take it." I picked the wand up.

I could feel the magic radiating from it but it felt wrong. The wizard snatched it up. And switched it for a new one. "Perhaps Holly?" I had barely touched the wand before it was snatched as well. "Pine?"

This continued for some time whilst the wizard continued to mutter wand woods. He had finally moved on from dragon heartstrings and my heart swelled. It was far from a guarantee but, still.

"Hawthorne?" He muttered as he approached with yet another wand. As I closed my hand around the wand, I knew, this one was different. Warmth swelled inside me and my fingers tingled with pleasant electricity. I felt the urge to swish it through the air and followed the instinct. Beautiful green sparks shot out the end and danced through the air. The wandmaker's face became thoughtful, as though he hadn't really thought this wand would work. "Good, good. Interesting, but good." He muttered, it seemed the wizard often muttered to himself.

"10 inch hawthorn with a unicorn hair core." He announced.

 _Uh-oh._ I thought miserably. _Unicorn. Father will not be happy._ Though, of course, I had no control over which wand suited me, Father would hate that the core was most opposed to Dark Magic. Perhaps if I focused on the hawthorn wood. Hawthorn wands are ambiguous and typically reserved for naturally talented wizards.

I noticed, then, that the wizard was scrutinizing my face, watching the minute changes that signaled my inner conflict. I shook my head slightly to clear it and moved toward the counter to pay for my wand.

I left Diagon Alley by floo and, after spinning through the green flames and close walls, stepped out at my fireplace grate with caution.

 _ **Author commentary:**_ Okie dokie, here it is! I hope you guys enjoyed this first look into Draco Malfoy's head. Leave a review, like/follow, or what not. Thanks! Byyyeee!

 _ **Edit:**_ I am thinking of making this my first chapter and dumping The Fall. Thoughts?


	2. Headache

My last month before going to Hogwarts was awful. Mother had taken a turn for the worse- I continuously tried to remind myself that it was only the nature of her illness, full of ups and downs and worse down- and a side affect to her suffering was Father's increased rage. He had reacted as badly to my wand core as I had presumed he would. Fixating on the fact that my wand wood was hawthorn only made him laugh scornfully, until he remembered his anger.

Trying, unsuccessfully, to stay out of the way, I read through my schoolbooks. I longed to perform some of the spells, but magic outside of school was forbidden for minors.

The last day of August finally came and I excitedly packed my trunk for tomorrow. I was going to Hogwarts at last!

Only as my last spellbook was carefully tucked away, did I realize the problem. I slowly trudged down the stairs, my stomach dropping more with each step.

"Father?" I asked as I approached the tall blond figure. His face was turned away from me but his body stiffened. I tried to read the emotion in his tense shoulders. Anger? Disgust? Hate?

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ I admonished myself. _Father loves me._

But the thought flew from my mind as he turned slowly and I saw the burning in his eyes. "What, Draco?" He questioned tersely. I wondered briefly if my name sounded as horrid coming from others.

"I w-was just wondering, Father, how I might be getting to Hogwarts tomorrow?" I flinched inwardly at the stammer in my voice. _Malfoys are not weak._

"Honestly, Draco. Must you be so stupid? You will take the train."

 _Stupid,_ I hissed at myself, agreeing wholeheartedly with my father. Reluctantly, I continued, "Yes, Father, but how will we be getting to the platform? The book wasn't clear on how that works."

"The book wasn't clear," he chided, "Of course, blame your own ineptitude on a book." Father sighed and continued patronizingly, "I will take you to the local train station that connects to the archway at platform 9 3/4."

Father arched an eyebrow expectantly.

"Er-" I started, unsure what he wanted me to say.

A sharp blow threw my head to the side and I fell against the floor. A hand twisted around my collar, yanking me into Father's face. "I volunteer to take you to the station and you don't have the decency to _thank me_? You ungrateful prat!" He thrust me back to the floor. My head resounded against the marble with a hollow thunk. He let go of my shirt and stepped away, though still obviously seething. I choked back a hard knot in my throat before the tears could reach my eyes. Father turned and strode from the room. Just before exiting he shot over his shoulder, "Pack your things, we leave at 9."

I pushed myself into a sitting position on the floor. I had planned to stand up immediately but my vision swirled about in a way that made the cold floor more enticing. "D-dobby," I choked out. The elf appeared with a crack that resounded through my skull like a dull ax hacking away inside.

"Master," the elf sank into a low bow that straightened out almost immediately upon seeing me strewn across the floor.

"I- I nee-" I couldn't push the words past my lips. But the elf had come across enough similar situations to need no instruction. I felt a flash of guilt. Technically, the elf was not disobeying my father by just helping to get me back to my room but, the elf would undoubtedly punish himself later.

I had tried once to forbid the elf from hurting himself but he only smiled and said, "It doesn't work like that." I supposed it was part of his bond to my family.

The elf gripped my arm in his twig-like fingers and I prepared myself for the pressing sensation of side-along apparition.

My eyes were still scrunched tightly when the elf called out to me reassuringly, "Master, we are here. It is done." I tried but couldn't open my eyes, the elf merely guided me back toward the bed.

"Dobby, tell me a story." I pleaded for a distraction, not caring for the moment that my voice sounded like a child.

"Of course, Master. Which one?" He asked, though I was sure he already knew.

I told him and he launched into the tale of the great hero, The-Boy-Who-Lived, his high voice lulling me into sleep.

My eyes cracked open to hazy sunlight and a pounding headache. I glanced at the clock and did a double take. 8 O'clock! I scrambled to the bathroom and got ready as quickly as I could while still looking immaculate.

I called a house elf to take my trunk to the parlor and hurried down the stairs. I arrived in the marble hall at 8:50 according to the ornate grandfather clock that stood at one end. Father stood at the other, his face drawn up in impatience. He boxed my ears for nearly being late but otherwise ignored my arrival at his side.

We arrived at the muggle train station, my father repressing his disgust and I, my fascination.

 _ **Author's commentary:**_ Sorry this chapter is so short, I originally meant it to be part of the next chapter but I got too excited. Anyways, Here you guys go! Leave a review, like/follow, or what not.


	3. Goyle

We arrived at the muggle train station, my father repressing his disgust and I, my fascination. As I watched the spinning gears and curling smoke, a burly man moved toward us. I quickly turned my eyes from the muggle inventions to watch his progress through the stifling crowds. I felt Father shift beside me and I glanced at him; his shoulders shifted back, drawing himself higher in response to the man's approach.

He was dressed immaculately in muggle clothing, though my father's reaction declared him a wizard. A crisp suit jacket cut perfectly across his broad shoulders and bulging arms, the white shirt underneath served to emphasize the expanse of his chest. He stopped in front of Father, ignoring my presence as he stuck his hand out.

Ordinarily, my father would have turned up his nose at such an offer, but Father merely grasped the outstretched hand. I was slightly confused at the gesture, this was not the proper handshake Father had taught me.

Instead of grasping the boat-sized hand, Father had wrapped his long fingers around the man's wrist with his index finger pointed down the man's forearm. Father tapped his pointed finger twice and the man returned the gesture, his other fingers swallowing Father's wrist. They had let go before I understood. The strange gesture had been made with their left arms, this man was from Father's old days.

I turned from the giant man unable to keep my discomfort from piercing my visage. Upon looking away, I discovered why this man would come to a muggle place. A boy stood, slightly behind the man, accompanied by a set of luggage. I eyed my future schoolmate. He looked much like the man he stood by, with the same vast body and dark bristly hair that reached across his square forehead, nearly dipping into his squinty eyes.

His father peered down at me, for the first time noticing me beside my father. I glanced at him and met his deep eyes, startled to find they were not black but blue. "This is my son, Gregory," came a deep rumble as the burly man waved a hand toward his son. At the gesture, the boy flinched but hurriedly mutter, "Hullo." His voice was as deep as his father's but held none of the power.

I paused before replying to ensure my own voice would come out confident, "Hello, Gregory. I am Draco Malfoy," I stretched my hand to the boy. He stared at it with consternation before stretching his own hand out. Much to my embarrassment, my slight hand disappeared into his. I quickly withdrew from his grasp. Though, of course, I knew his hand was abnormally large, the size difference was humiliating. Father always said I had the hands of a small girl.

Father turned to me, "Goyle is an old friend and we have agreed it would be pertinent for the two of you to be- friends." I wondered briefly why he paused on the word friend but my curiosity was overwhelmed by giddiness. A friend? What does that entail? Perhaps it would be like Dobby's stories. We would protect each other and share food and swap stories and- I broke off my excitement before it could flow into my expression.

"Of course, Father," I enthused. He raised his eyebrow at my tone.

"Gregory is more liable to keep in touch." Father explained, seeming to want to dash my hopes. "I have explained your _impropriety_ to Goyle, though it displeases me to do so, it seemed necessary. I will not have Hogwarts undoing the work I have done."

I carefully kept my expression in check as despair washed over me. He was not to be a friend- he was a sentry. Hogwarts was not a sanctuary. It was as much a prison as Malfoy Manor. I was to be watched- at all times. I sank deeper and deeper into desolation as the others turned from the conversation and we pressed through the muggle crowd.

My curiosity did not rise even as we paused at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, even as the elder Goyle pressed against the wall, even as he vanished. As Gregory followed his father, I briefly considered not going. My legs tensed as Father passed through. I could do it, it would be _so_ easy to run; but, that was cowardly. _Malfoys do not fear._

I took in a trembling breath before reassembling my countenance, yet again, and pressing against the brick wall.

Suddenly, the wall was not there and I was, instead, passing underneath a wrought-iron archway.

 _ **Author's Commentary:**_ How did you guys like my idea about the platform being accessible from multiple stations? I've always been confused at how so many wizards could filter in through one little barrier and not arouse muggle suspicion so this was my solution. Oooo also how do you guys like Draco so far? Am I breaking your hearts yet? Anyways, I will update soon- next is the introduction of Crabbe and another scene with Harry! I'm excited- are you?

Like, review, follow, and what not. K? Byyyeeee.


	4. Boarding the Train

Wizards popped into existence on either side of me as they passed through their barrier to join the crowded platform. Above the heads milling about, I could see a scarlet steam engine waiting for me to board.

Despite my sudden dejected spirits, I could not wait to see what awaited me aboard the Hogwarts Express. I had read about it, of course. The train was the solution to the increasing number of accidents and muggle sightings that accompanied large numbers of witches and wizards travelling as they pleased. After the statute of secrecy passed, it was even more necessary to find a way for students to get to school. Of course, using a muggle invention was beneath many, but the ministry had insisted. My father was highly against this mode of transportation, another argument for Durmstrang. I, however, had no such qualms. I was curious at how the muggles had gotten such a thing to work, without using magic!

Muggles really are much more resourceful than wizards- I cringed away from the thought before I could betray my family further. Why must I be so stupid? Why does my every thought seek to disgrace the Malfoy name? I lamented.

This is why Father had positioned a sentry for me, to ensure I do not disgrace him with such thoughts. Muggles are not so bad and muggleborns really are no different than the rest of wizards, I remember voicing these thoughts to Father once, long ago. I could remember the white hot knives of the cruciatus curse and the enraged voice shrieking to never speak of such things.

I tried, I really did, but occasionally I found myself wondering about some muggle invention or pondering life without magic. Occasionally, my tongue would slip and let loose the abhorrent thoughts. If his wand was with him, Father would try again to teach me with the curse, if not, Father was resourceful enough without it.

I fought the shivers creeping down my back and turned my focus to my father and the Goyles.

"-must be leaving, you will report to me?" Father asked, turning his gaze to Gregory. The boy nodded mutely. Father's eyes flashed at the disrespectful lack of an answer but let it go with a nod of his own. He turned to me, gripped my shoulder, and pulled me closer to his face. He leaned closely to hiss quietly in my ear, "Remember your lessons; if I hear of anything that is not befitting the Malfoy name, I will personally drag you home and ensure you never disgrace me again." His fingers dug tighter into the groove above my collarbone until I nearly cried out from the pressure.

I quickly smoothed my expression as he released me. Malfoys do not show pain. The exchange seemed to draw several eyes, perhaps it was merely curiosity for a young Malfoy, but Father must have thought the same. As he stepped away, he glanced at the pausing passerby and patted my head. It was meant to seem soothing, and certainly placated the onlookers, but the gesture was much too rough against my tender head. Nausea swelled up, threatening to show on my expression, I pushed against the rising symptom of a concussion and was soon back in control. Father left quickly, striding toward the archway, and I watched as he disappeared.

I excused myself from the Goyles, murmuring to the younger that he would find me on the train, and headed to find a compartment.

The crowd jostled me a bit, witches and wizards and animals too excited to stand still. Near the front of the train, compartments were already full, with children hanging out sharing tearful goodbyes with their family. I looked away from the exchange, willing tears not to rise in my own eyes as I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between my goodbye and theirs. Father loves me, I pathetically reminded myself.

Near the middle of the train, I found a nearly empty compartment. I hesitated outside, debating whether I should impose myself on the two students already inside. The crowd outside the train decided for me. The number of people was swelling and I could hardly stand to have them so close. I entered the compartment and prepared to introduce myself.

"Draco?" The girl inside questioned. I studied her face for a moment, trying to place her. The girl's ebony hair hung above her slight shoulders, lightly grazing her pointed chin. Her full lips pushed into a pout, clearly realizing I did not remember her. "I'm Pansy Parkinson," she simpered.

"Yes, of course," I stated cordially, my manners not allowing me to admit I had forgotten.

Though she wasn't fooled, she dropped her pout before continuing, "We met at the event held by the ministry, last year."

That would explain why I hadn't remembered her. Father had been invited, as a prestigious member of the ministry, to a rather large event and had been reluctant to bring me. Mother had insisted I be allowed to go and Father was happy enough with her bout of wellness to oblige. I had been to similar occasions before but none of that magnitude.

I was distracted the whole event, struggling to keep my face clear of the pain Father had inflicted to remind me to not be an embarrassment. I vaguely remembered being introduced to several children but I was not allowed to play with them. Such a thing as seeking was not befitting of a Malfoy. I remembered watching the children chase each other around, laughing with glee, while trying not to notice the way my suit irritated the scorch marks lacing my skin.

I shook my head slightly to clear the memory. I infused my voice with all the charm I had been taught, "Of course, I apologize, I really ought to remember a fine girl such as yourself."

She rolled her eyes and I drew my eyebrows up in surprise at her reaction. "Drop the chivalrous act, Draco. We've all been raised with it and it gets tiring. Don't you think?" Had her voice really been simpering only a second ago? Now it was cold and teasing and filled with outright honesty. I rather liked this voice.

"Alright," I agreed simply.

She sat down and waved her hand for me to follow. I sat across from her and looked at the boy, wondering if I had met him before, as well. Pansy noticed my gaze and gestured vaguely to the boy, "This is Blaise. He's an idiot. You met him at the event, too."

I laughed at her casual insult but caught myself quickly. Blaise surveyed me with a look of arrogance that melted into a smile. "Draco, I remember you." I didn't understand what he was smiling at but the grin was infectious.

"Wish I could say the same," I teased, slightly surprised by my casualness.

Our laughter was cut short by the reappearance of Gregory. Pansy surveyed him with a look of distaste and Blaise had resumed his haughty manner. I noticed a slightly shorter figure behind him and raised my brow at the intrusion. "Malfoy," Gregory grunted before stepping into the compartment. The wide space seemed much smaller with his wide body standing in the middle of it.

"Goyle," I greeted. With a gesture to the boy behind him, I asked, "Who's your friend?"

Gregory- Goyle, I mentally corrected- looked back to the heavy set boy before grunting, "Crabbe." I sighed inwardly- was this boy only capable of one word at a time?- before standing to shake hands with the newcomer. He seemed confused by the gesture and I resisted the urge to sigh aloud. Finally, he took my hand and I could make introductions.

I turned from the sudden silence in the compartment to the conversations outside. I was enraptured by the goodbyes of one family near by as the mother implored, " you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've—you've blown up a toilet or—"

I stifled a laugh as two similar voices replied, "Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet. Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny," chided the mother. Yes it is, I argued with her. "And look after Ron," she continued.

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us." One of the older boys said.

"Shut up," came a new voice.

I waited for the inevitable thud to such a remark, but it never came, the older boy just continued as if nothing happened. "Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train? You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?" Asked the mother, I wondered at her tone, it was not enraged by the rude remarks or annoyed by the questions.

"Harry Potter!" Came the reply. I sat up straighter, Harry Potter? I couldn't believe it. I should have known the legend would be in my year, but still, Harry Potter.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please…" piped up a little girl's voice. I felt a flash of annoyance at her pleading and quite agreed with the mother's reply.

""You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo." She directed her words back toward the older boy, "Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there—like lightning."

"Poor dear—no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform." Why would the Harry Potter be alone? Surely, he would have an entourage of wizards to escort him to the train. I mused briefly.

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" Came one of the older boy's voice. I could easily picture him with a constant grin and mischievous eyes.

Their mother suddenly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on." Again, I waited for the sound of a blow, but one didn't come. Perhaps this witch only taught her sons about manners at home? My father certainly tried, but I couldn't imagine him allowing me to say such a thing, no matter the company present.

"Hurry up," their mother suddenly called out, though without any impatience. They said their goodbyes and I could hear the girl burst into tears.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls." Said one boy.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat." Joked another.

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom." Though from his tone I could picture the same easy grin, that might indicate otherwise.

The train began to move and I turned my thoughts from the strange family. I was still nervous about Hogwarts; but, as the train pulled me to the castle, I realized I was once again excited about the destination.

I didn't know what I was going to—but it had to be better than what I was leaving behind.

 _ **Author commentary:**_ I am very excited for this story and am in the process of writing another chapter, neglecting my homework in the process, but- oh well. How do you guys like it so far? Leave a review, like, favorite, follow, or what not.

Also- exciting news...I got my first review today! Keep it up, I'm excited to hear what you think and don't be afraid to add critiques!

K- I'm going back to writing now...byyyeeeeeee!


	5. The Rat

The door slid open and an unassuming round faced boy peered in, "Has anyone seen my toad? Gran'll kill me if I've lost him for good," he pouted.

I started to reply that no, I hadn't, when Pansy stood to face the boy. "I don't believe so, but if I were you I wouldn't bother to find the nasty old thing." The teasing tone was back but harder. The boy flinched back and trembled, his eyes welled up. _What a horrid lack of composure, hasn't anyone taught him better?_ I thought. I wondered why he should feel so affronted by her voice anyhow, I rather liked it. He gulped and withdrew from the compartment, shutting the door.

Blaise smirked after the boy as Pansy snickered, obviously, they had been properly educated in the art of maintaining composure. Though both seemed to find the boy's slip amusing rather than disgusting.

Pansy looked at me,"That was Longbottom, you should know him. He's pureblood, too."

"And he lives with his Grandmother?" I surmised, remembering how the boy had mentioned her but not his parents.

Pansy shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time.

Blaise leaned forward, "Well, his parent were aurors and- well- they're at St. Mungo's."

I leaned back from his whispers, I hadn't noticed that I too had shifted forward. "What happened?" I breathed.

Pansy cut into the conversation, "The Cruciatus curse." She glanced guiltily around, as though the mention of the Unforgivable curse would be overheard and land her a spot in Azkaban.

Goyle broke the tension with a snort. "Got what they deserved, they did. They went against Him." I stared at Goyle in shock. Not only was it the longest speech I had heard from him, but I hadn't anticipated the dull voice to be so full of malice. He looked at me, probably expecting me to agree. I knew Father would, but I couldn't bring myself to utter the words.

The boy- Longbottom- would have been a baby. If they were still in St. Mungo's hospital, the curse must have driven them insane. If they were aurors, it must have taken hours.

We sank into a strained silence with Pansy shooting wearied looks at Goyle.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" The dimpled, smiling witch seemed oblivious to the tension as she slid the door open and presented a food cart. Eager to move past the gauche moment, we each bought a bit.

Pansy, Blaise, and I put our haul together and split the treats, but Goyle and his friend Crabbe kept theirs to themselves. _No matter,_ I thought, relishing in the experience. Dobby's stories were true! Not that _they_ counted _me_ as a friend, but perhaps, we were headed in that direction. A smile settled across my face- my cheeks seemed frozen, the muscles unused to being stretched in such a way, but happy to work- and a warm glow grew in my stomach that had nothing to do with the fiery sweet I had just swallowed.

Some time passed before I could no longer stand to ignore the rumor- Harry Potter was on the train and I wanted to meet him.

I excused myself from the compartment, but Goyle and Crabbe stood, as well. I repressed a sigh and tried to accept their position as my prison guards.

"Where're we going?" Grunted Goyle.

"To check out the rumor."

"What rumor?" Crabbe managed to articulate.

"The rumor about- Harry Potter," I hesitated slightly before saying his name, unsure of how it would be reciprocated.

Goyle merely grunted- _how am I supposed to interpret his reaction and the subsequent report to Father when this dolt is hardly capable of a few measly words?_

I drew in a deep breath, my temper was flaring and I needed to be in control.

I slid the compartment door open. Sitting amidst a sea of wrappers and boxes was a familiar tangle of hair. I stepped in, Crabbe and Goyle flanking my sides. "Is it true?" I asked. I was slightly ashamed of the fascination that seeped into my voice, but it could hardly be helped. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment." I peered into the familiar emerald eyes. How could I have not known that the boy in the robe shop was none other than Harry Potter! "So it's you, is it?" I prodded, though I knew the answer. _Merlin, Harry Potter!_

"Yes," he said sounding slightly embarrassed by the fact. The emerald eyes seemed to size up Crabbe and Goyle and I acknowledged their gaze with an introduction. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

The boy across from Harry Potter laughed and tried gracelessly to cover it with a cough. My temper flared again.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are." I continued in a cold dismissive voice that would put him in his place. "My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." _And are a rotten bit of blood traitors,_ I added in my head, though I kept that part silent. Father only bothered to mention the Weasleys to emphasize his hatred toward muggle lovers.

 _Father loves me._

I regained control of my temper but continued my tirade. It would be more prudent for Harry Potter to stay away from such a declaration of sides. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." I stretched my hand out to the boy.

He stared at it for moment before looking into my face. His eyes had hardened and his voice was cold as he replied, "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

I blinked in shock, though my composure never fell completely. He rejected my hand, my friendship, me.

I was suddenly hyper-aware of the hulking boys behind me. They would tell Father. Not just of this humiliation but of the boy's declaration. Dark wizards would know for sure he fought for the light. I had to do something. Warn him but how with the sentries ready to report back?

An idea unfolded in my mind and I utterly hated it. I willed my emotion away.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," I said slowly, unwilling to say the words. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." _They will kill you! Don't you see that?_

The Weasley stood and shouted something, though I was much too lost to lamentation to process it. I vaguely registered his hands were curled into fists at his side.

"Oh, you're going to fight us are you?" I teased. What hope would he have of winning with my sentries shifting into a fighting stance?

"Unless you get out now." Potter said with grim determination. I felt like palming my forehead. There was no backing out, I would have to fight. Father would not stand for a cowardly son. _Malfoys are not cowardly,_ the voice emphasized. _No, but I don't have to deal the first blow either,_ I reasoned.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." I smirked, antagonizing them. Goyle reached forward and the Weasley jumped up. I sighed inwardly, _here we go._

Then, Goyle began to shriek, without being touched. I glanced at Potter, expecting the emerald eyes to glint with magic, but they looked as startled as I felt. The source of Goyle's pain became clear as he whirled his hand, attempting to shake off the rodent that clung there by its teeth. As the rat began to slip off, I backed away. It was unclear where the rat would go and I did not like the idea of a rat gnawing at my face.

The rat was dislodged and flew across the compartment to smack against the window. I heard approaching footsteps and tapped Crabbe and Goyle, _time to go._ I followed after them down the corridor, pausing to give Potter an apologetic look. I wasn't sure he saw it.

As we reached the compartment, a voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." A new anxiety replaced my worries about Harry Potter- _what would Hogwarts hold for me?_

 ** _Author's commentary:_** Wazzaaaaaaaahh... It is 1am and my creative juices are drained- I remember I was going to put something important here but I don't... remember... what... So, until I figure out what it was- if I ever do-

How'd you guys like this chapter and Draco's characterization? Please like, follow, review (even to critique)-

Wow, I can't think... I am going to edit this commentary tomorrow- probably. K? Byyyyyeeeee!

 _ **Edit:**_ I remember now, I was going to ask if someone could tell me the difference between a view and a visit.


	6. First Sight

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

Pansy bounced with excitement as the first years slid down the steep, narrow path behind Hagrid. I shot a halfhearted glare in her direction, too excited myself to bother further. I had seen pictures, of course, but I realized, as the path opened upon it, that none of them had done the magnificent castle justice.

The inky night sky dripped into a vast black lake, both glittering with more stars than I had ever seen. On the other edge of the great lake a mountain jutted into the sky defiantly and nestled atop it, was Hogwarts. The windows twinkled more brilliantly than the stars and with a warmth that beckoned me to them. Tasteful turrets speared the sky from their place on high towers.

While I did not join, I couldn't help but agree with the loud "Oooooh," that rang through the night.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, drawing my attention from the beautiful scenery to the fleet of little boats swaying softly at the water's edge.

Crabbe and Goyle clambered into a boat and looked at me expectantly. I reluctantly moved to join them, but we had been near the back of the group and, as boats were becoming short supply, someone else scrambled in after them before I could. While I was relieved to not sit with the two hulking figures, I realized I had nowhere to go.

I teetered on the edge of the lake, unsure of myself for a moment. _Should I impose myself upon a smaller group?_ Pansy decided for me. She climbed out of her boat with Blaise, scampered over to me, and tugged me back toward it. Normally, I would not allow myself to be tugged around, but I was grateful enough to let it slide.

"Everyone in?" Shouted Hagrid from a boat that was taken up completely by only himself. ""Right then—FORWARD!"

The command seemed to entail some incantation because, as soon as he spoke, the boats sailed forward as one. They barely seemed to cut the surface of the water as we glided across the lake causing no ripples. Silence had fallen over us as the castled loomed overhead. As I tore my eyes from the castle, I saw that we were headed into the face of the cliff. I wondered if there was some charm to make the walls seem solid, but as Hagrid yelled to duck I noticed a curtain of ivy. I caught one of the vines as we passed into a dark tunnel and ripped away one of the leaves. I began to think of a spell to keep the leaf from rotting in my lock-box of memories, but stopped once we reached a little harbor near the base of the castle. We followed Hagrid on the passageway in the rock, through soft, damp grass, and up a flight of stone stairs.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Joked the giant before turning to the heavy oak door. My breath caught in my throat as he knocked his fist against it.

 _This is it- no going back._


	7. The Sorting

A stern face greeted us immediately.

"Firs' years, McGonagull." Hagrid introduced.

"Thank you Hagrid. I will take them from here." The woman's voice was as stern as her face, but I sensed a hint of a grandmotherly nature as her gaze quickly fell on each of our face. Her eyes paused a moment at a tangle of black hair, a hot flash ran through my body. I wasn't sure what the feeling was, it was gone before I could place it. She pulled the door wide, revealing an enormous entrance hall. The stone walls were lined with torches, their light dancing about the floor and walls but not quite reaching the high ceiling. A marble staircase rose across from us and to the right were high doors, behind which came the drone of a crowd.

McGonagull led us not to the crowd but an empty chamber off the hall. The other students stood closer than necessary- even I scooted close to Pansy- guarding each other from the vast unknown of the Hogwarts grounds.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She eyed a few students before making her leave. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

The chamber burst with noise as everyone seemed to be asking the same question, "How do they sort us?" but as no one was able to answer, the crowd sank back into anxious silence. A few piercing screams suddenly shattered the silence, I turned to glare at them, _What are they going on about?_ My answer came as I peered around a straggle of students stumbling away from the back wall.

Twenty or so pearlescent ghosts slid through the walls, utterly ignoring us all until one wearing a ruff and tights broke off their argument. "-I say, what are you all doing here?"

No one answered and a fat little monk answered for the first ghost, "New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Still no one spoke, but a few dared to nod in reply.

McGonagull slid in, though most were too busy staring at the ghosts to notice her. I turned to face her, ghosts were nothing new but this woman was about to lead us to our fate.

"Move along now," she said, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." As the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, the other wizards turned their focus to McGonagull. "Now, form a line," she said trying to rein the nervous crowd in, "and follow me."

My chest began to squeeze painfully, _what would my house be?_ I fantasized, for a moment, being declared a Gryffindor, courageous- But that wasn't me. I held no illusions concerning myself- I was a spineless coward.

No, the best- the only option was Slytherin. I only hoped I could fool the system into believing I was enough for the reputable house.

Thoughts of how to fake my worth consumed my thoughts so that I hardly noticed the elderly professor lead us to the front of a vast hall.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." The snobbish whisper broke my thoughts and I turned to see brown eyes turned up to the ceiling. I followed their gaze and couldn't help being taken aback by the inky sky and twinkling stars. Of course, I had heard stories about the ceiling, probably every wizard had at some point in their childhood. I remembered one particular story Mother liked to tell: her first date with Father had been interrupted by bewitched flakes of snow drifting down from the ceiling, ending when a flake landed against his fuming face and both had broken into laughter.

Still, the sky was much beyond imagination.

My attention was still glued to the sky-ceiling when a voice began to rumble out poetry:

 **Oh you may not think I'm pretty,**

 **But don't judge on what you see,**

 **I'll eat myself if you can find**

 **A smarter hat than me.**

 _When did that get there?_ I supposed someone must have summoned the dirty, frayed wizard's hat and the four-legged stool on which it was placed. I cursed myself for not paying better mind to my surroundings. I tried from that point forward to focus on the hat's song but it seemed little more than nonsensical rubbish, I had barely absorbed any of the words by the time the four long tables exploded into applause.

McGonagull stepped forward with a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," She said and began to read from the parchment, "Abbott, Hannah."

Blaise groaned beside me, I raised my eyebrow in question and he explained, "This shite's gonna take forever, I mean, I'm a Z. Makes no sense, doing this tosh one at a time."

I snickered but quickly clamped down on the sound. I flinched inwardly, half expecting a painful rebuke for such an offense. I glanced sideways at Blaise but he paid no mind to my infraction. My brow furrowed at the lack of response but, with a shake of my head I turned my attention to the sorting and tried to determine how it worked.

"Finnagen, Seamus" was called and he swept the hat from its place on the stool, jamming it on his head. He sat for an extremely long minute, occasionally muttering a reply to something.

 _It's legillimency, or something of the like._ A ghost of a smile flashed across my face. I knew how to trick it. I turned my mind on itself, concentrating on setting the walls up around every thought but _Slytherin_. I wasn't sure how powerful the hat's magic was so I took the time to double the thickness of the walls, just in case.

They dimmed a bit as I was distracted by the snobbish girl racing forward eagerly. She looked rather foolish, shoving her head and bushy hair into the hat as though it could not read her thoughts quick enough. I decided I would do no such thing, nor would I meekly take my place on the stool as Longbottom was now doing.

As Macdougal was called, I quickly reinforced the mental blocks. "Malfoy, Draco" was called and I sauntered forward. As gracefully as possible, I lowered the hat onto my head. I felt a brief surge of power sweep across the barriers but they found no entry. The sorting hat called "SLYTHERIN" and I realized with a bit of pride, I had done it! I had tricked the sorting hat! I was taking my place among the cheering green-clad table!

I paid little attention until "Parkinson, Pansy" was called. The hat deliberated for a minute but sent her down to Slytherin. I cheered with the rest of them as she plopped down on the bench to my left. Crabbe and Goyle had also made it and they were seated to my right.

"Potter, Harry." The entire hall fell silent for a moment only to erupt in whispers.

"Potter?" "The Potter?" "Harry Potter?" "The boy who lived?"

Every eye turned toward the small boy. His green eyes were hidden from the hall as the hat fell over them. His mouth twisted into a slight grimace, concentrating hard on something. I started to wish that maybe, _maybe_ he was Slytherin. But I dismissed it. The Golden Boy would get Gryffindor, as everyone assumed.

The hat seemed to take forever to decide, but eventually- "GRYFFINDOR" was shouted across the hall.

The table went absolutely barmy. Har- Potter hardly seemed to notice. As he approached the bench everyone close enough stood, trying to hug, or even just touch, the famous boy. Twin boys, obviously Weasleys, crowed, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Even the ghost next to Potter tried to pat his back.

Finally, the hall settled down enough to continue the sorting. There were only four people left. "Thomas, Dean" joined Gryffindor and the slight "Turpin, Lisa" was declared Ravenclaw. I couldn't help but laugh slightly at the sight of Weasley. His face was green underneath his splatter of freckles and, indeed, his mouth was clamped tightly as though he might hurl. _What would he do if he were Slytherin?_ I mused. It was an entertaining thought but he was quickly sorted into Gryffindor. Potter clapped along with the table as Weasley sat next to him. That strange hot flash coursed through me again as they sat like old friends, but again it was gone.

Blaise hurried to the chair, not wanting to be the only one standing up there for long, and was declared Slytherin. I cheered with the rest of the table as he sat next to Pansy.

Albus Dumbledore stood and greeted the school with open arms, "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

The older students cheered. It seemed to me, Father was right- the Headmaster was really barking. But with that, the table filled with food.

I ate much more than I ever had- Not that Father starved me! I always had something to eat, unless I deserved not to, but Father always said it was improper to spoil a child so. But no one else seemed to care about propriety so I stuffed myself, full for the first time.

I was beginning to feel tired when, at long last, the plates cleared and Dumbledore stood.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Several students laughed at the last warning, but most took the news solemnly. I cared more about Quidditch. Perhaps I should talk to her about training for next year, or maybe being a backup flier. Father would be happy if I were accepted on the team, no matter the position.

"And now," he continued, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Most of the teachers looked rather horrified by the idea, but kept smiles in place nonetheless. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore sent a trail of gold spiraling through the air and twisting into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

The cacophony that arouse was atrocious but Pansy insisted I participate. Though I would never admit it aloud, it was rather fun to sing. I took to Pansy's tune, not knowing many myself, and we finished after most students had already trailed off. Last to finish though, was the Weasley twins. They had, probably purposefully, chosen a slow ballad and were moaning soulfully a full minute after everyone else. I grinned at the mischievous pair, they were going to make Hogwarts interesting at least.

I realized Dumbledore was speaking just as he said "-Off you trot!"

 _ **Author's Commentary:**_ I don't think I could ever explain how happy I am when I see a new person has viewed my story, honestly, you guys reading are amazing. I am dreading writing the next chapter. I have to get it just right and the level of torment is hard to bear- just a hint- the next chapter goes into more explicit detail of the undertakings at Malfoy Manor. I'm also thinking of having a different perspective weigh in. Please leave a review- I live for constructive criticism. Also, if you leave a question, I will do my utmost to answer it- unless it spoils something. K, that's all for now. Byyyeeee!


	8. The Dream

The first years followed the Slytherin prefect out of the crowded hall. We split off from the rest of the chattering students. I frowned as we seemed to be descending into a colder part of the castle. I took in the slightly damp stone and the dimly lit corridors. _The Slytherins are housed in the dungeons?_ My mind demanded furiously. _How is that even close to ethical!_ I eyed a smaller first year shiver and my temper raised again. _I will_ kill _whoever thought it right to stick children in the dungeons! That crackpot old fool!_ I noticed Pansy shoot me a frightened look before smoothing her expression. "What?" I spat.

"You look positively evil," She declared.

Several students turned to look at me, shuddered, and slid away. I worked to place a stony reserve over my darkened expression and soothe my temper.

I clenched my teeth and suppressed a murderous shiver.

The prefect stopped in front of what seemed to be a random wall. "Bugger off," the prefect said with a grin. Several students flinched at his vulgar language but then everyone stared as the wall moved. "That's the password," the prefect explained, "Don't forget it, also don't forget what segment of the wall is a door. Otherwise you'll be muttering 'bugger off' up and down the dungeon corridors." This drew laughter and the prefect looked pleased with the response. He ushered the crowd into the room.

The long, low room was elegantly decorated. In little clusters, high backed green and black chairs were placed around the room. Dark mahogany tables were paired with some groups of chairs and one, a long meticulously carved dining table, stood against the far wall, cluttered with bits of parchment and textbooks. The wall to the right held only green tinged windows, while the wall to the left held an enormous fireplace and sophisticated doorways on either side. The prefect swept his arms out gesturing grandly to the room. "This is the Common Room," He announced, welcoming the first years. "It is a bit cold, but the fire is always kept up and we rotate warmth spell conjuring duties. Don't worry, you won't do this until after midterm." He turned to the doorways, "These lead into the dormitories. Girls on the far end, boys in this one. You will quickly find it is impossible for boys to enter the girl's side and vice versa. Through the main archway, you will find a corridor with more doors. Over each is a number- this corresponds to the year it houses. Each dorm has its own bathroom that you will share with the members of your year. Your belongings have already been brought to your dorm."

We all nodded our understanding and the prefect dismissed us. "Just a minute," he called, we all turned back to him. "A word to the wise, to the other houses, Slytherin is wrong, evil, don't leave by yourself or you may find yourself punished for a stereotype. Tell someone in a higher year, don't bother with professors, but we will take care of it- Slytherins take care of their own." There was an awkward pause at the sentiment but he continued, "Alright, go ahead. Claim your beds, you'll likely use the same one your entire stay here."

We rushed forward to the dorms. There was only one wizard in our year I had yet to meet and we quickly exchanged pleasantries. The weedy- looking boy declared himself Theodore Nott and I grimaced at the familiar name. _No wonder the rest of the school thinks we're evil-_ our fathers were all Death Eaters, servants of the Dark Lord. As we engaged in conversation, though, I found he was nothing like his father and actually quite pleasant to talk to.

The prefect popped his head in, "Glad to see you're getting settled," he chirped, "But, really, you should be getting into bed." I glanced at the ornate clock, surprised to see how late it had gotten. We nodded and the older boy left.

I grabbed my night things and headed into the bathrooms. I relished the hot water- going way past my old ten minute limit- and by the time I got back the light was out and the others were already asleep. I sank into the bed and let Blaise's soft snores lull me to sleep.

 _The darkness pressed into me- drowning me, threatening to swallow me whole. My fists pummeled the solid oak above me, knowing such attempts were utterly futile but struggling to free myself nonetheless. My knees were coiled tightly to my chest but still my feet strained against the barrier. Tears raked my cheeks and I knew I should make an effort to stem their flow but for now they trudged on. Panic seized my chest and grabbed hold of my heart. My lungs refused to move, burning without air, but unable to fill themselves. Heat prickled across my skin as though millions of ants were biting again and again. I struggled to brush them off, though part of me knew there was nothing there. I finally found air only to have it ripped away by the shrieks escaping my throat. I tried to clamp down on the sound but it continued to burst from my chest. The scream elevated as my shoulder gave out under the pressure of pushing against the wood. Knives dug in but I continued to push. My base instincts had taken over. I was reduced to a senseless animal. The pain did not fade but my panic took precedence. My ceaseless screeching seemed to tear my throat to shreds, as I tasted blood in the back of my mouth, part of me realized I needed to stop but the part in control continued to scream. The lid popped open but it was not the freedom I had longed for. I was momentarily set free to be trapped again by the iron grasp of pale hands. One seized my throat, strangling my frantic screams to a whimper. The other hand squeezed just above my jaw. My teeth ground into the soft flesh, drawing more blood until my mouth gave in and slid open. The hand around my throat released itself and drew an object from beneath a swirl of robes. Stick out your tongue, the voice commanded. I could not obey, the animal inside would not let me. The hand grasping my face shook me, until my eyes rattled and darkness seeped into my vision again. Do it, the voice commanded. The animal was desperate to not lose consciousness and stretched my tongue out. The other hand revealed what it had grabbed- a silver knife, sharp enough to slice my tongue at a slight pressure. My tongue tingled against the cool metal. A shriek escaped my throat, mangled by the damage of being choked. No more, the voice hissed, one more noise and I will cut the wretched thing off. You will take your punishment in silence. The hands moved to thrust me back into the trunk- my eyes widened, pleading. My back hit the bottom of the trunk with a force that nearly caused me to bite off my still protruding tongue. The lid slammed shut, I hastened to move out of its way but not fast enough. My finger crunched and I nearly cried out. I choked back the scream building in my chest, remembering my father's threat- no, promise- if I screamed again._

"Draco?" I awoke to four sets of concerned eyes staring down at me.

 _ **Author's commentary:** _ This was hard to write. I hope it was hard to read, as well- in a horrendously good way, of course. I also hope that you will excuse my little rant at the beginning, I made Draco share my frustrations about the Slytherin dormitories. I mean, honestly! Children, housed in the dungeons! No wonder so many go to the dark side. From the very beginning of their education they are shunted to the side and basically told they are worthless! It is utterly ridiculous- ugh. I am getting lost in my rage again. Though as much as it was a release for me, I think it added great character to my Draco to have him so enraged and protective of the other students.

Moving on to the dream- I hope you caught on that this is the reasoning behind his aforementioned claustrophobia. Not that every phobia has to be justified to be valid but I think it fits Draco more to be the case.

Let me know what you guys think, I am dying for feedback- be it positive or not. Alrighty, byyeeee.

BTW next chapter switches POV!


	9. Blaise

**This is Blaise POV**

 **Alright aaaaand...go!**

A small whimper attempted to pull me from my sleep. I struggled toward the sound- someone could be in trouble- but the darkness swept over my head and I was pulled back into my dream.

 _My broom crashed against the ground, snapping part of the handle and my arm. You'd better think of a way to pay for that broom,_ child _. A deep voice rumbled. The scene changed. I was no longer outdoors but in a dimly lit parlor. My hands burned from the scouring solution as I scrubbed uselessly at the floor. The skin on my hands was itching, flaking away and burning more intensely as the cleanser hit the exposed softer flesh. The clear liquid swirled with red as it bit deeper into my hands-_

I awoke with a slight whimper. _Just a dream._ Well, a memory- but one that would never be repeated. My mother had made sure of that. A scream echoed through the room. I bolted upright in my bed. _What the-?_ My though broke off as another scream pierced my eardrums and I looked around the dormitory. Goyle's scowling face peered put from his drawn curtains.

"Wassat?" He questioned, sleep making him sound dumber than usual. I frowned and shrugged.

Nott flung his curtains open, "Shut the bloody hell up!" he demanded. _Not him then._ I looked to the last two beds as the screams continued. The sound escalated.

"Bloody hell!" I shouted. I snatched at the curtains nearest me and opened them, looking for the source of the antagonized screech. Crabbe snorted in his sleep and I briefly wondered how he could _possibly_ sleep with this bloody racket. Then I realized the implications of finding a sleeping Crabbe- _Draco,_ my mind whispered. I hurried to his bed, terrified of what I would find inside. I steeled myself then reached a hand to the emerald curtain.

Draco seemed to be under the Cruciatus curse. His body writhed. His back arched. His face scrunched in agony. Tears streamed down his face. His mouth stretched impossibly wide as he let loose the horrific sound.

The door behind me burst open.

"What is going on in here?" A voice cried out.

"Dunno sir," Explained Nott, "Malfoy's gone mad."

"Malfoy?" The boy asked. I turned from Draco to see the prefect from earlier.

"What do we do?" I asked, only slightly ashamed of the fear that crept into my voice.

The prefect seemed as unsure as us first years, "Try to wake him up. Don't touch him though. If he doesn't wake in the next five minutes, we'll take him to the infirmary."

"Draco?" I called softly.

Nott glowered at us all but stomped over to the bed, "Draco!" he shouted, attempting to be heard over the still rising screams.

Even Goyle got up and called to the blond.

The scream cut off with a strangled gulp. Draco collapsed into the bed and stopped moving. If not for the ragged breaths he drew in, I would have thought he had died. The sudden stillness was unnerving and I almost wished for the screams.

Finally, his pale eyelids fluttered. "Draco?" I called again. The boy finally opened his silver eyes and I released the breath I hadn't known I was holding.

Draco seemed confused to see us standing there, then sudden realization washed across his features. A pink tinge settled against his high cheekbones. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Sorry?" I demanded. _What the hell did he have to be sorry about?_

"Usually, I- I have charms- I just- I forgot. I'm sorry," He explained losing composure for the first conscious time since I had known him.

I shoved him- gently, then pulled him into a fierce hug. "Bloody prat!" I exclaimed.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," the prefect intoned.

I pulled back, holding the slight shoulders as I examined him for physical damage. He cringed slightly under my scrutiny and tried to wipe inconspicuously at his tears. "You bloody scared me, mate!" I told Draco after determining the worst damage was the scores under his eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Stop apologizing." Nott interrupted a bit rudely but clearly meaning well.

"Sor-" He began before cutting himself off with a grimace.

"If we go to the infirmary-" began the prefect before Draco panicked.

"No! I'm fine! I do not need a mediwitch, please. Please!" His voice climbed toward hysteria as he scrambled from my hold.

"Malfoy, you need to tell me what happened," the prefect tried again.

Draco's voice jumped to hysteria again, "No!" He swallowed and smoothed his hair back before continuing in a much calmer voice, "That won't be necessary. I really am fine, just a bloody nightmare." He laughed and waved the older boy off. I had to admit, the laugh sounded pretty convincing.

The prefect certainly accepted it. "Alright, but if you need a draught for sleepless potion let me know. Okay?" He gave a last wary look before exiting our dorm. Before the door shut, I could hear him assuring students all was fine.

"So Malfoy," Nott began, "What gives?" Clearly, he was not fooled either. Goyle had grown disinterested with the situation at some point and was back to snoring.

Draco glared at Nott before sneering, "What could you possibly mean?" His tone did not waver but something in his eyes did.

"Come off it, Draco," I chimed in. "What really happened?"

Something about my voice softened his face, "How bad was it?" He asked.

"I thought you were being tortured, mate." I told him.

Nott snorted, "That's putting it mild. Malfoy, you sounded like an animal sent through a grinder alive."

His face flushed that delicate pink again. He opened his mouth but I quickly cut in. "Don't say it was 'nothing' either." He shut his mouth, apparently that was exactly his intention.

"I-" he began before snapping his mouth shut again. He looked down and scowled at his fidgeting hands.

I sat on the edge of his bed and Nott quickly followed suit. "Just walk us through the dream," implored Nott in a voice softer than I would have imagined him capable.

"I can't," the blond muttered. A tear dropped from his downcast face onto the bedspread and we all pretended not to notice.

"Sure you can," I replied, forcing a jovial tone, "I'll tell you mine."

I wasn't sure what had prompted me to strike the deal but when Draco assented, I was glad that I had. Nott agreed to the same terms and I prompted him to go first.

"I was eating Bertie Bott's when I noticed the gray one I just ate tasted funny. Blisters started opening in my mouth and I was choking on blood. Just before you- I woke up, I realized it was a potion the Death Eaters use to avoid interrogation." Nott looked at Malfoy and I, I had been staring.

He cleared his throat, prompting me to begin. "I was just remembering when my father made me scrub the floors by hand for breaking a broom. The solvent was too strong and it had burned my hands. Course, he made me finish anyway, it took longer once my blood mixed with the shite." It was my turn to feel uncomfortable. "So, what about you, Draco?" I pressed lightly.

"I was remembering my childhood, as well." he began. I bit down a wince, this was going to be bad. He shuddered slightly and shut his eyes. I wanted to tell him he didn't have to say, though he had already agreed to, but with another breath he continued. "Father would lock me in the trunk sometimes- only when I deserved it," he hurriedly added to defend his father. "It wasn't bad at first but after a few times, I couldn't stand it. I barely fit inside and every time I had to go in, the walls seemed to shrink." He shuddered violently, unable to suppress the reaction this time. "The time I was remembering was- bad. I was pushing against the top, screaming and then I dislocated my shoulder and screamed more. Father opened the trunk and told me to stop. _I should have,_ but I- I couldn't." His voice dropped to a low murmur and, seemingly without thinking, his hand brushed against his mouth before continuing. "He tried to make me stop and then told me if I didn't he would cut off my tongue." Draco shut his eyes and Nott and I looked at each other. Of course Death Eaters were not the homeliest bunch and shite was bound to come up at home but- _this?_

"Malfoy, you gotta tell," Nott said.

Draco's silver eyes flashed open and hysteria crept back into his voice. "No! Why?"

"Because you dolt, that is utter shite." I scowled at Nott's lack of propriety. Not that he was wrong, but surely there was a way to be a _bit_ more delicate.

"Sod off, Nott." I told him.

Draco sighed in relief, "You understand, right?"

"Yeah, but the bugger's not wrong. Look, Draco, he should've said it better but-"

"No!" The blond exclaimed again. "I'm done talking. You two had better keep your mouths shut or I'll make you sorry." His face was absolutely menacing and I believed wholeheartedly, the tiny boy could make good on his threat.

He rolled over, planted his face in his pillow, and proceeded to ignore us.

I reluctantly got back into my own bed, Nott did the same, but I had a hard time going to sleep. Thoughts of the blond plagued me into the early morning, when I finally dropped off.

 ** _Author's Commentary:_** I like writing as Blaise. It is a little weird using British swears, though. I hope they were accurate. I live in the US- Texas at that- so the change is quite a big one. I might swear more later once I'm more familiar with it, I don't know. I also enjoyed Nott but I'm not sure what to make of him yet so, we won't be hearing much from him. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. We will be back inside Draco's head next time but, in the future, you might be seeing more through Blaise's eyes. Shit, it's 5am and I have not slept...until next time, byyeeee!


	10. Charmed

I pressed my fingers against my head. The right side was throbbing painfully, protesting my lack of sleep. "Shite," I muttered. Not only had all of Slytherin heard my screams, but I had _told_ Blaise and Nott.

Now I was reduced to hiding out- unable to face my table at breakfast. I had not even lasted a full day before ruining everything. Classes would be starting soon and how could I possibly show my face? They were probably having a good laugh at me right now. At the very least, they would never talk to me again.

The head of Slytherin, a vaguely familiar man named Severus Snape, had delivered our timetables earlier that morning and, according to the ornate clock, it was nearly time for my first class. I peeled myself off the duvet and trudged into the bathroom.

I groaned loudly at the reflection that greeted me. Deep purple bruises settled beneath storming silver eyes that were themselves rimmed red. Sweat matted my hair and left tracks down the sides of my face to match the trails of tears. After a few minutes splashing my face with water, I decided a shower was the only option.

I didn't have time to wait for the water to heat up properly, and the icy water was horribly wonderful. My body flinched against the temperature but was forced to wake up. I hurriedly toweled off and ran a QuickDry styling comb through my hair. There was little time to do much more, but after careful inspection in the mirror, I decided it was acceptable.

The Charms class was fairly easy to get to, though the castle seemed determined to trick me, as I had researched a navigation spell beforehand that worked surprisingly well. One simply placed their wand in the palm of the hand, direct your flow of magic, and whisper _point me._ Twice, I had to recast the spell after a staircase would lead me an impossible direction; however, I was still one of the few first years able to navigate the halls so well. This seemed especially impressive as Slytherin shared the first class with Ravenclaw, the house known for intelligence.

I quickly took a seat toward the back, not so far that I would be misassumed as a delinquent but far enough that the professor would not see my every move. Students straggled in, usually travelling in clusters, but the tiny professor made no remark to their tardiness. Blaise, Nott, and Pansy sauntered through the doorway, and though they clearly possessed the same pack mentality as the others, they did not look ruffled in the slightest. Pansy immediately made to sit next to me and Blaise and Nott quickly followed, though they seemed hesitant.

"Hey Draco, missed you at breakfast. Did you need your beauty sleep?" Pansy teased.

I rolled my eyes in a haughty manner before pretending to ignore them all. Really, I could not divert my attention. _What would they say? How would they act?_ Pansy seemed to be acting normal, had they not told her? _Why wouldn't they?_

"Hey Draco." Blaise greeted.

I couldn't help but look over at him. His face was not drawn up in the sneer I had imagined. _What the hell is he playing at?_

My brows furrowed as I tried to decipher his reaction. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered into the room and dropped noisily into the empty chairs to my right. Goyle grunted a hello and I nodded politely. _What about him?_ Though I doubted we would have been friends regardless, I worried what he would tell Father.

Most of the class must have arrived by then because the professor cleared his throat to begin. "Good morning class, I am Professor Flitwick, as the Ravenclaws know, I am the Head of House of Ravenclaw. That does not mean, however, that there will be special treatment of any kind." Blaise snorted quietly. When I looked at him, he flashed a grin and rolled his eyes.

I turned away and bit my lip before remembering Malfoys did not do that kind of thing. It was just so confusing! Not to mention utterly infuriating. Why? Why was he reacting this way? Why was he not laughing as I knew people would when they found out. Found out how I screw everything up. Now he _knew_ how pathetic I was and still, he looked at me like I was something special. Like we could be friends. Like he did not think I was loathsome. _Why?_

The answer flashed through my mind, bringing a surge of rage. _Pity._ The damn fool pities me. I would have to confront him about this. Soon. I will not be looked down on in such a disgraceful manner.

 _ **Author's commentary:**_ Sorry it has taken me so long to post a new chapter! I have been so emotionally drained I didn't have the creativity to come up with anything. I promise new updates will come quicker. Other than that, hope you enjoyed this chapter, it is a little short but I think it had enough emotion to compensate. So, until next time, like/follow/review... Byyyeeeeeee.


	11. Confrontation

The rest of the day passed in much the same manner, students straggling into class late, teachers lecturing about anything and everything besides their actual subject matter, and me ignoring everyone. It was cowardly- utterly spineless. I should have said something to Blaise the moment I realized what he was doing. But I couldn't summon the courage for the confrontation, and, though I hated to admit it, a small, despicable part of me wondered if it were such a bad thing. That stupid part argued that surely pity was better than contempt or hatred. At least then someone would be there.

But even with that small part wanting to be around them all, I could not stand the thought of going to dinner. Bile rose in my throat as I imagined them all looking at me- able to keep their eyes on me without a professor's interruption- and I knew, it could not go on.

I went to the library instead, my stomach growling furiously as I passed the enticing smells of the dining hall. I shushed it with thoughts of facing the others.

Though none of the professors had actually begun their lectures during class, they each expected us to look into the theory of their field. I knew most students would not give it a second thought but I was increasingly aware of the fact that schoolwork was to be my sole purpose here. Whereas others would have friends, clubs, or Quidditch- I would only have textbooks. My heart sinking further and further, I began to read: _Astrology is often dismissed by witches and wizards who do not understand its subtlety. While other courses will have you wave wands and mutter incantations, astrology requires deep study of the minute changes in the physical world that dictate those of the magical world._

I stowed my books and rolls of parchment away and rubbed my tired eyes. I had stayed in the library much longer than I had intended and curfew was nearing. After quick research into each of my classes, including those I had not attended yet, I began looking into the Silencing charm. My father had begun using it on my quarters some time ago when my screams had worried mother and taken a toll on her health, and I thought that I had understood the theory enough to perform it. Unfortunately, it was more complicated than that. Ordinarily, students did not study the spell until fifth year and was even more complicated to charm a whole area rather than a single organism. I would have to figure something else out until I was able to practice it more, but I was completely without ideas. The uselessness and the idea that they might hear me again was overwhelming.

Thus I was in a horrid mood as I approached the dungeons. I could feel my magic flickering about like the poisonous tongues of a dragon, the harder I tried to contain it the more ferociously it lashed out. Nearby torches burned hotter and brighter, their flames extending to brush the ceiling, and I knew somehow it was my fault. I breathed deeply but rage and despair knotted so tightly in my chest I thought I might explode, or at least the torches would.

"Draco?"

 _No. Please, no._ I moaned in my head. Footsteps drew toward me. I could not face him, not now, not with my magic threatening to tear me apart.

"Draco, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

That did it. "Of course I am," I snarled. "What should it matter to you anyway? You can forget whatever you think you're feeling because it is a lie." My voice twisted the pain into anger. My skin tingled as my magic responded eagerly. "I don't want your help. I don't want your pity. I don't want _you_." My voice was so cold but my body burned hot. In that moment, I wanted to hurt him. Accepting that desire as permission, my magic lashed out again. But this time it was not the torches that burned.

His screams snapped me back into control, but there was nothing I could do to fix it. I could only watch as his skin blistered and bled, as others came running to us, as they tried to help him. I could only watch. Older students struggled to pick up his writhing body. Younger students looked on in shock and horror. Pansy's face stood out from the crowd as tears slid down her face, but I could only watch that, too.

Everyone was screaming but one voice was yelling at me, "Malfoy! What the hell? What's wrong with you?" _A lot,_ I thought but was somehow unable to voice it. Nott continued to glare daggers into me as his voice rose, "You stupid shite! You're worse than your bloody father- you're a monster!" My magic roared in retaliation, the flames of the torches shooting up before flickering out completely. The dungeon was cast into darkness but I could see enough.

Every face was drawn up in fear. Unable to take the stares I turned and sprinted away. Further into the dark, allowing it to swallow me whole.

 ** _Author's commentary:_** Again, short, I'm sorry. But this really was a stand alone event, I couldn't tack it onto the end of the last chapter. Oh well, I hope you guys liked the action and angst in this chapter. I'm sorry to say that things will be pretty bad for Draco for a while. I really want to thank you guys for the reads and reviews it means so much. Like honestly, my heart has little spasms every time I see a new review.

To user Caeoltoiri: Thank you so much for your feedback, and also for explaining the visitor/viewer thing. I highly appreciate it. Plus, I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to spell misassume!


	12. Repercussions

"Draco," a nasally voice called out.

"Here," I replied reluctantly. I had ignored the others but I had a feeling the Slytherin Head of House might literally kill me if I ignored him. He quickly strode into view, his billowing, black cloak conjuring the image of a large swooping bat. Under any other circumstances, I would have been ashamed to be seen curled up against the floor, but I was so emotionally exhausted I did not raise a complaint.

The man's cold features softened slightly as his fathomless eyes swept across the room and came to rest upon me. "Get up," he commanded.

I tried to obey, but my body would not listen. My arms remained locked around knees, my temple remained against the stone floor, not even my eyes would raise from the crack in the wall. Snape sighed impatiently then marched over to my corner. As his hand stretched out towards me, I could not help but flinch. Perhaps I expected some penance for my outburst, or perhaps I didn't respond well to such gestures in general. He hesitated but did not pull his hand back, instead, he grabbed my wrist and gently pried my arms apart. When I still did not move, he swept me off the ground and cradled me to his chest. Again, I felt utterly demeaned but I could not bring myself to care.

He shifted my weight so that he could draw his wand and muttered a concealment charm before rushing through the dungeons toward the cheery halls of the rest of the school. It occurred to me that I might be expelled, but before I could worry about it, the thought drifted away. Everything seemed to be dipped in a haze, because of the magical or emotional drainage I didn't know or care.

"Pumpkin Pasties," Snape declared impatiently- I had no idea what he meant but could not be bothered to ask- and soon we were moving again. As soon as he placed me in a chair, I slumped into it, unable to hold myself up. "As you can see, headmaster," _Headmaster?_ I wondered vaguely. "This ordeal has been quite as trying for Mister Malfoy as for Mister Zabini. We simply cannot expel him for something so clearly not his fault." Snape's voice had lowered to a hiss as he defended me. I tried to tell him it really wasn't necessary but my mouth would not obey.

"Severus, I agree with you. I asked you to find the boy, not to punish him but to help. We cannot have this sort of thing happening but we also will not punish accidental magic." The old man's voice was clear but level. He did not seem angry and that was confusing enough, let alone his offer to "help me". I successfully opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but only a strangled groan escaped and I immediately stopped trying. Both men eyed me warily before Dumbledore suggested, "Perhaps you ought to take him to the infirmary, Severus."

Snape's dark hair swung forward as he nodded and leaned down to pick me up again. I pushed his hands away. At the headmaster's mention of the infirmary, part of me had awoken from the haze. "I'm not going. I am perfectly fine." I tried to insist. My voice fell flat and broke on the word "fine", undermining the words.

"Draco," Dumbledore said, "You will go to the infirmary, and then we shall need to talk further."

I glared halfheartedly. Pushing Snape's hands away again, I stood from the chair and gestured for him to lead the way.

The mediwitch was a motherly woman, though snappy at any denial of her care. She immediately administered a Pepper up potion then directed me to one of the white beds.

She pulled her wand and I immediately leaned away. "Don't worry," she said, "I'll just run a few basic tests. You won't feel a thing."

"What kind of tests?" I asked, still eyeing the wand.

"Just a quick check of your full condition," she explained, attempting to alleviate my worries.

I grimaced inwardly, unsure of what she would find. Father was kind in healing any scar tissue but sometimes, punishments were forgotten about, and the injuries were lasting. This stupid witch was going to humiliate me and I had no choice but to let her.

She waved her wand countless times, muttering incantations as a Quick-Quotes Quill took avid notes. When she finally finished, she frowned at her notes.

"What is it Pomfrey?" Snape asked. Pomfrey only continued to frown and shook her head.

"Mister Malfoy? Can you answer where you got these injuries?" The witch asked. I shrugged. I _could_ answer but probably not truthfully. "There is the obvious drainage from earlier tonight and some internal damage from the magic, but there is also exterior damage to the shoulder, back, and legs. As well as a old fractures and a concussion." She stated this as though giving an official report but, her tone changed as she continued, "Honey, is there something you need to tell us?"

I scrunched my brows together. What I _needed_ was privacy. I summoned all my remaining strength and emotion and pushed it into a convincing laugh. "What? That I crash a bit too often on my broomstick?"

She clucked her tongue disapprovingly at my tone but accepted the answer. "Alright, Mister Malfoy, take a vial of this and drink it before going to bed. It will cause a dreamless sleep and allow your body to heal."

I nodded a thanks and stood. She moved away toward a curtained off bed. I had a horrible feeling that Blaise was behind it and really wished I could say I had not meant it.

Snape turned to me and, for a moment, it seemed worry filled his eyes. Then, it was gone and he began speaking, "I will address the House regarding tonight's events when we get there. No one will harbor any hard feelings toward you." It was meant to be reassuring, but I could only imagine the embarrassment of a professor telling students not to mess with me.

It was every bit as horrid as I thought it would be.

When we first entered the dorms, students were either yelling or cowering. I would rather have dealt with it myself but Snape stepped in front of me and glowered at the room. "Silence." The Slytherins immediately obeyed. "Firstly, tonight's events will not leave this House. If any other House has even an inkling of the situation, I will personally find the traitor and have him removed. Slytherins protect each other and I will not tolerate anything else. Understood?" Each and every person nodded, still keeping their silence. "Secondly, I will not have Malfoy persecuted for things beyond his control, specifically by his House- his family. Accidental magic can be serious but it is called 'accidental' for a reason. Thirdly, Zabini will make a full recovery by early morning."

At the last words, the Slytherin house burst into applause. I nearly joined, grateful that I had not done any permanent damage. At least not physically.

With the potion, I was able to sleep more soundly than I had in a long time.

 _ **Author's Commentary:**_ Huh- I don't have much to say about this one. Except, I would like to note I am **NOT** a Snape apologist. I like this gentle side of him showing toward his Slytherins but in my book it doesn't excuse him...sorry to offend. Still, this is a Slytherin POV so, he will likely be better than in the original series. Anyways, thanks for reading. As always... like/review/follow. Byyyeeee!


	13. The Potions Master

I took the potion in one gulp and dropped into bed. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the chaos in my head to calm. The next time I opened my eyes, sunlight filtered through the air.

The acrid taste that filled my mouth was a minor side effect I gladly accepted. I hadn't slept that well in- well, possibly ever. I crept past my sleeping dorm members into the shower. I wasn't rushing today so I took extra care in making myself presentable. Though the deep scores typically cresting my eyes were softened to a faint lilac and my hair was not nearly as mangled as usual.

I sighed when I could no longer procrastinate.

I knocked on the heavy stone door. "Enter," came the sullen voice, I obeyed. The classroom I entered was different than the others I had already seen. This one held long desks with black marble tops instead of heavy oak tables. The walls were lined with shelves of various strange substances- some I recognized to be popular potion materials. There were no windows, the only light from torches spaced throughout the room. "Back here," the voice called again.

This room seemed to be his office. Though it was so sparsely decorated, I could hardly tell. Father says you can tell a lot about a person by the space they keep. Of Severus Snape, I was sure of one thing: he was distant. Perhaps from everyone, if his room is to be believed, though small talismans seemed to suggest he cared deeper than he allowed himself to show. He cleared his throat and gestured to a seat.

"Dumbledore feels you need extra lessons and, quite frankly, I agree." This man was straight to the point, no nonsense. Typically, I might respect that. At the moment, I fought to keep anger from my countenance.

"Even now, your attitude is getting the better of you."

I didn't know why I couldn't control myself here. I always maintained my emotions, even in adrenaline-fueled moments. I spat out with more venom than I intended, "I do not have an attitude."

The teacher smirked. For just one moment, I wanted to wipe that stupid expression off his face. Just one moment. But it was enough. Glass shattered and shards flew at him. I started to scream, horrified that yet again I could put someone in the hospital wing. The professor whispered a word- maybe a plead for his life.

Before any reached his face, the glass dissolved into a fine white sand. I stared in utter bewilderment before collapsing to my knees. I could feel nothing but immense relief as all energy drained from my body. Only years of suppressing such emotions kept the tears from my eyes.

"Do you believe me now, boy? You are not in control and you need help before you put someone else in the infirmary, or else kill them."

I nodded meekly, it would do no good to argue now and I wasn't sure I would even want to.

"We do not wish for your lack of magical control to reach the ears of the school's general public so, I will provide a reason for your frequent visits-"

"Frequent?" I interrupted. The professor raised an eyebrow at the infraction and I flinched inwardly, biting my tongue to quiet any further rebellion.

The professor studied my face for a moment before continuing like I hadn't interrupted. "We can simply say you are in remedial potions or in detention for some reason or another."

"What? No, I can't do either of those. I would never have need for remedial classes and what crime would detentions be for? No, either of those would be just as bad as accidental outbursts. No," aware I was beginning to ramble, I stopped there.

"What would you have me do then? You do understand the implications of magical outbursts here, don't you? You might be provoked into using your magic for someone else's purposes and you could seriously injure someone. Not to mention the ridicule for not having mastered what should come naturally." Part of me knew he didn't mean to insult me, but my emotions seemed to control me now and I fought to keep the anger from swelling. The professor's gaze hardened, "Harder to control, now isn't it?"

I flashed a grimace that was meant to be a sneer. "Yes, I would say so," I replied, my voice sounding smooth and sarcastic despite the rising anger and panic.

"Close your eyes," he commanded.

"What?" Obeying would leave me nearly defenseless and I couldn't do that on a whim.

"Close your eyes, I am going to help you control those emotions of yours."

"Fine." I snapped and shut my eyes with a derisive huff. "There, happy?" I hoped he could not sense the nervous energy that fueled my insolence, though I could hardly see how he couldn't. The atmosphere felt thick enough to suffocate me.

"Yes," he replied, undaunted by my tone, "Now, imagine your emotions as color, picture them swirling throughout your body."

"How is this supposed to help?" I demanded angrily, opening my eyes.

"Because much of magic is drawn from the atmosphere within and surrounding ourselves, you can sense emotion and magic if you let yourself. When you see a physical representation, it is easier to manipulate it. Close your eyes, take a breath, and imagine it."

I let my eyes close again and took a deep shaky breath. I pictured my anger, a crimson tide, rising high, threatening to crush me, a sorrowful blue propels it, and swirling here and there was glittering gold- my magic- caught in the swirl of other colors.

"You can see it, can't you? Good now, try to manipulate the emotion- you control it, not the other way around."

I tried, I really did, to force the anger and pain away but it only continued to rise. I let out a frustrated groan as I lost my grip on the image and it fades away. "I don't understand!" A hint of desperation touched my voice, contorting it to an ugly whine. "Why can't I control my emotions here when I am perfectly capable of doing so at home?"

"Well, there is a much different atmosphere here, your own emotions and magic are stimulated by the amount of magic in the air. Sometimes, children's magic is smothered by the dense atmosphere and thus their accidental magic is no longer much of an issue. Other times, children's magic rises in competition to the atmosphere, the levels of magic escalate until the child can no longer hold their magic and it bursts out. Your case is, quite obviously, the latter."

"And my emotions respond to the escalation in magic by also escalating?" I reasoned.

The professor offered me a small smile, "Yes, very good. There could also be an underlying current of suppressed emotion that is released in response to the magic."

Deciding to ignore that aspect, I asked, "Why would one's magic decide to rise instead of allowing itself to be smothered by the atmosphere?"

"There are many reasons hypothesized but personality and a sheer wealth of power are top considerations."

I nearly laughed- _personality? Of course, my magic would mess up due to something so trivial._

"Well, Malfoy, Back to the previous subject matter. How will we conceal these lessons, as you so object the typical means?"

"Well, what if we hold them at nights and in your office? The dormitories and your office are both in the dungeons- it would hardly be noticed that I come here."

"Yes, I suppose. I will monitor the situation carefully, though. I will send an owl for your next lesson." The professor sunk back into his texts without another glance toward me. I took the dismissal and hurried from his office.

 _ **Author's Commentary:**_ So I took that wimpy chapter and added the next bit to it. Though I did like the cliffhanger I nearly left it on- Snape's impending doom- there just wasn't enough there to be a separate chapter. So, anyways, hope you guys like where this is going, there's going to be more relationship drama in the next one- probably. I don't really know. Until next time: review/follow/favorite... byyyyeeee!


	14. Birds and Bushes

**Author's commentary:** In case you didn't notice, I updated the last chapter to hold waaayy more, so check that out if you don't know what's going on. There'll be another AC at the bottom that's actually about _this_ chapter so for now... on with the story!

I stare absently at my slender fingers as my mind spirals. These fingers may well be coated in acid, they so deftly ruin everything. _Why? Why must I be so stupid?_

I hated these moods in an abstract sort of way, but there was simply no shaking the gloom. I had too much time before classes started. Time was often my enemy, moving too slow or too fast just to spite me. These useless thoughts dug into my brain as I dug my fingers too hard into my eyes, as though I wanted to scratch the shame out. The pain helped chase away the dark but I knew I had to stop. Gradually, my fingers relaxed against my face. Spots flew before my eyes but I tried to pay them no attention as rational thought reentered my brain. Father will hear about this- my failure. _How disgraceful! A Malfoy, unable to control his magic. Imagine the disgust!_ My brain shouted unhelpfully.

 _Stop it!_ I commanded myself. I had to get a handle on this- this stupid mood before facing classes. But, of course, it doesn't work quite that way. I sigh and dig my fingernails into my palm, willing the numbness to settle back into my body. Sometimes, it was helpful to not feel.

Finally, I was ready to leave the cold dungeons I had taken refuge in. My numb legs indicated that perhaps _too_ much time had passed. I cast a tempus but found I actually still had twenty minutes before a decent time to head to class. I groaned at the idiocy of the professor- _why had he called for me so early?_ – though the dampness against my face suggested I would need the extra time. I hastily wiped away as much of my tears as I could; then, hurried to a bathroom I had discovered in my wandering.

The dusty mirror revealed my perpetually bored expression was only slightly marred by slightly swollen eyelids and a few bright red spots across my cheekbones. Both of which were easily rid of. I stared deep into my reflection's silver eyes and rid the last internal traces of my earlier breakdown. I turned from the glass with a deep exhale to steel myself.

Again, I was one of the first to reach the classroom, either from leaving too early or the point me spell I couldn't be sure. This professor, Binns, didn't seem to care about late stragglers though, as he plunged straight into a lecture. _Ghosts are the worst._ They all think outside of the normal frames of time, either fixated on their death or trudging endlessly onward.

Then, he walks in. And I am the one suspended from time. The Slytherins who have managed to straggle in thus far erupt into cheers. I remain rooted to my seat but discreetly peer at him from beneath my eyelashes.

I breathe a sigh of relief at his smile and unmarked skin. Blaise keeps smiling and shaking everyone's hands, even giving a few near-hysterical girls hugs. The Ravenclaws look amused at this show of affection but perhaps attribute it to the 'Weirdness of Slytherin' they must have heard about because they quickly turn back to their notes with a shake of the head.

I noticed him hesitate by the door after the others returned to their seats. Nott noticed as well and waved him over. His eyes flicked over to me and I hurriedly turned back to my nearly nonexistent notes. _I'm sorry!_ I cried out desperately in my thoughts, wishing, briefly, that Blaise could hear me and what I could never say aloud.

I was concentrating so much on the tedious lecture, that I gave an involuntary jump of surprise when the seat to my left squeaked against the floor.

I didn't know who I was expecting, perhaps some Ravenclaw loner, but when I turned in my seat to tell them to sod off, I was confronted by dark eyes. I bit my bottom lip in worry then abruptly stopped when I remembered the behavior was shameful. "Yes?" I asked, expecting my voice to be timid, but, of course, it wasn't. I was better than that. Instead, my voice dripped with boredom.

I hated it.

But Blaise didn't seem affected by my harsh tone. His eyes flicked back and forth between my eyes as though he really was trying to read the thoughts hidden there. "Draco," he started but paused to give the few people watching a sharp look. They turned away and he began again, voice even softer than before, "Draco, I forgive you."

I fought to keep panic from raising my voice, "What? Why?"

He laughed and broke his hold on my eyes, "Because ya little shite, I like you and I never really blamed you in the first place."

Tears pricked my eyes but I swallowed them down before they showed. "You didn't? But everyone else-"

"Everyone else can sod it. I don't care."

"But-" A dark hand clamped over my lips before I even knew what I was going to say.

Blaise grinned and wagged a finger at me, "I don't want to hear it, Draco," he practically sang.

Under his fingers, my own lips spread into a grin. I couldn't help it, Blaise's mood was infectious.

"Oh Merlin! Don't tell me you too secretly love each other," Pansy cried, much too loud, from behind our seats.

"What?" I yelled back still muffled by Blaise's hand.

Blaise just continued to grin. "Maybe, we've certainly kissed and made up."

"What?" I said again. Pulling Blaise's fingers away I continued, "We have not."

"Hush now, Draco," Pansy said mockingly, "It's just a muggle expression for getting over a fight."

"Oh," I said fighting a blush at my idiocy. Then I realized, "You two use muggle expressions?"

Pansy shrugged, "Why not? They're all so funny. Did you know they have one about catching birds?"

"No, Pansy. It's not really about birds," Blaise cut in.

"Well, what is it then, if you're so smart?" She replied, sniffing haughtily.

I lost my sorrow in their ridiculous banter about birds and bushes as they kept it up all through the rest of Binns' and free period.

 **Author's Commentary:** I love Blaise. When I wrote this chapter, I wasn't sure if I was going to have him forgive Draco yet, but one, I'm a sucker for lightheartedness and two, the Blaise I've conjured up so far wouldn't hold a grudge. Don't worry though, that is not the end of their struggles.

I really hope the beginning tugged at some heartstrings. And as always, favorite, review, or follow! Byyyyeee!


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